An Ear to Listen, A Hand to Lend
by Dominatrice
Summary: Something made Arthur follow Gwen to the woods that night - This is my version on the events leading up the start of Episode 09. Minor Spoilers for those who haven't yet seen it. Merlin introspection, Merlin/Arthur low level bromance and musings galore. In keeping with the theme of Season 5, there's also some complimentary arm clasping. Friendship fic, Oneshot.


**A/N** - Hello! I've been reading in the Merlin fandom for a few months, and have been reading and writing in the HP fandom for years. I finally worked up the courage to post a fic for Merlin, and decided that I'd do a version on how I think Arthur and Merlin came to be spying on Gwen that night at the start of Episode 09. If you haven't seen that episode, this does contain minor spoilers. Special thanks must go to **dr4g0ngrl **who Beta read this for me! I have gone through and made other last minute changes since she returned the draft to me though, so any mistakes you see are mine. Anyway - I hope you enjoy! I have a whole platoon of plot bunnies for Merlin stored away, so honest feedback on this would be gratefully recieved, otherwise I won't know whether to put them to paper (screen?) or... well, not.

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Merlin sighed, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he absentmindedly polished the multitude of pewter cups before him. It was early evening, and the dusky pinks and oranges were starting to fade from the sky, lone stars starting to shine out against a backdrop of darkest blue. For once, Arthur's chambers were immaculate, which no doubt had everything to do with the fact that Arthur hadn't stepped foot in them since lunch time. The man himself was attending to courtly matters, Gwen by his side. In a rare moment of luck, Arthur had decided Merlin's presence wasn't necessary, and he'd taken the opportunity to catch up on all of the little jobs that he just didn't seem to have time for usually.

Merlin's lips lifted in a small, ironic smile. Somewhere along the way, he'd started making some sort of actual effort where his duties as a manservant were concerned, and it now irked him when the chambers didn't look their best. Absurd, really, in the grand scheme of things, but what was he to do?

The polishing was always the last job he did, sat at Arthur's table, and he left it so as it was oddly relaxing. The repetitive rhythm of the rag against the rounded pewter often lulled him into a sense of calm, the process taking no thought and little action. It allowed his mind to wander freely, reviewing the things that had happened to him that day and, more importantly, the things that had happened to Arthur.

He shifted slightly in his seat, wincing as his sore leg protested the movement. Two weeks since the tumultuous events of his poisoning, and he was still feeling the effects, the wound being slow to heal.

As his mind turned to focus on those days, the familiar pressure of worry began to gather behind his temples. First and foremost, what on earth was he meant to do about Gwen? He knew without a moment's doubt that it wasn't _Gwen_ trying to kill Arthur. Whatever Morgana had done to her in the Dark Tower, she had somehow taken control of her. What Merlin really wanted to do was get his hands on her so he could try and feel out if Gwen was under an enchantment, or whether Morgana had managed to actually break her mind, the latter of which he didn't think any amount of magic would fix. However, he had no way of going through the lengthy process of discovering what was actually wrong with Gwen without being caught. Still, something would have to be done, and soon.

And then, of course, there was the matter of Morgana. Merlin rubbed even harder at the unyielding cup in his hands. It always came back to Morgana. As usual when his thoughts turned to the errant Princess, old feelings of guilt and bitterness welled up inside of him, churning in his gut and tightening his throat. An empty smile curled the corners of his lips as the irony of Morgana's choice in the manner of his death occurred to him.

"I suppose we're even now, my lady," he whispered, wondering if Morgana had found any solace in her act of retribution. As he had lain dying in the undergrowth, every breath bringing with it a wave of immeasurable agony, he had wondered if Morgana had felt so helpless and terrified when she had been dying in his arms, because of his treachery.

Merlin leant his head forwards, resting his forehead gently against his clenched fists. No matter what he told himself, his guilt over Morgana would never be absolved. She had already made her choice to side with Morgause when he poisoned her, but he had spent many nights torturing himself with dreams of what might have been, had he only trusted her with his secret. He would never forget the terror, the desperation in her eyes when he had pointed her in the direction of the Druids. How he had ached to tell her everything! They could have studied together, deep in the bowels of the castle, away from prying eyes. He would have helped her to gain control over her wild magic, shown her the beauty it could create. He wouldn't have been alone.

Swallowing past the hard lump in his throat, Merlin squeezed his aching eyes tightly shut. These were old dreams, and no amount of fantasising would allow him to change the past. Sighing tremulously into the table he bit his lip to try and bring himself back to the present, but his treacherous mind was having none of it. That darker part of himself - battle weary and jaded - whispered in his ear that it was not Mordred, but Merlin who was Arthur's doom. If he had been honest with Morgana from the start, she would never have sought the Druids. If she had never sought the druids, she would probably never have encountered Mordred for the second time. Uther wouldn't have had to send Arthur and soldiers to massacre the peaceful encampment, and Mordred perhaps wouldn't have had the seeds of revenge sown into his young heart.

Merlin rocked his head side to side on his hands, breathing deeply. His rational self fought back doggedly, refusing to give in. Morgana would never have been content to practise magic in the shadows as he had, knowing Uther would react violently if he ever knew. Morgause would have sought her out and turned her against her friends and family, whatever he had done. It was her destiny to play her part in Albion's, and Arthur's, eventual downfall. Nothing he might have done would have changed that.

Pulling himself together, Merlin went back to polishing, careful not to let his mind wander again into such painful territory. Soon after Merlin had put away the last of the cups and coerced the smouldering embers into a roaring fire, Arthur returned from the council chambers, fingers pulling irritatedly at the ties of his cloak even as he pushed open the door.

"Get me out of these dratted things Merlin, before I suffocate," snapped Arthur in his usual manner, spotting his Manservant almost immediately. Moving swiftly to the King's side, Merlin made short work of the various laces and ties on his clothing, stepping away briefly to gather the nightshirt and trousers he had left warming by the fire. As they went through the familiar routine, the deep frown on Arthur's brow smoothed out, a look of introspection replacing it. Merlin wasn't sure which look boded the most ill.

"If that will be all, Sire," Merlin said, half turning towards the door, head lowered respectfully. Arthur's head snapped up at the sound of Merlin's voice, a look of slight reproach on his face.

"_Mer_lin, for heaven's sake, what on earth is wrong with you?" he growled, rubbing tiredly at his eyes and slumping in the chair closest to the fireplace. Merlin blinked at him in confusion, cocking his head slightly to one side.

"Sire?"

"There! You just did it again!" Arthur pointed an accusing finger at him, blue eyes narrowing ominously. "You've never been polite! Not once in seven years of service! And then, for no obvious reason, you've gone all... all _servile_ on me in the last few months. If you'd started like this from the beginning, I'd have been ecstatic. But - for some absurd reason - I know you too well, and this... well, it's just not _normal_."

Merlin blinked at his master in disbelief, opening and closing his mouth several times before he was able to answer.

"Well, I'm sorry _Sire_. But I was under the distinct impression that my irreverent use of your name was not appreciated, and that my general 'prattle' and so forth was a cause of great irritation." Arthur rolled his eyes at his servants slightly scathing tone, finding himself missing the unbridled banter of their younger years.

"And that's all quite correct. However, I refuse to believe that you have suddenly taken heed of my wishes after such a long time. Either something's wrong, or you're planning something truly heinous - probably with Gwaine - and you're trying to hide it behind a docile manner."

Merlin gave his master a long and considering look before he shook his head slightly. "I'm only trying to be what you need me to be," he said softly, looking Arthur directly in the eyes. "You seemed... well, _bothered_, by my lack of decorum." He grinned suddenly, and if it wasn't the same as his old, no-holds-barred smile that never failed to disarm, it was a welcome sight all the same. "Don't worry, I still think you're a prat. And I still have no compunction about telling you so."

Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes, making no effort to suppress the small smirk that pulled at his lips. "That's oddly reassuring to know, _Mer_lin."

This time it was Merlin who rolled his eyes, before murmuring a quite good night and heading once more for the door.

"Merlin! Wait," said Arthur suddenly, the brittle note in his voice pulling the slender man up short. "Come here, sit down. I... I have something I must ask you."

Frowning, Merlin let his hand fall from the door handle for the second time and made his way slowly to the remaining chair. Once seated, he stretched his long legs out towards the warmth of the fire, and raised his eyebrows expectantly in Arthur's direction. The young king was staring into the flickering flames with the focused intensity that he usually reserved for battle, and Merlin swallowed nervously as the old and familiar paranoia unfurled in his stomach. Could he know? Had he finally, after all this time, figured out Merlin's web of lies? Finally, Arthur broke his unnatural stillness, running one thumb back and forward over the wedding band on his other hand.

"It's about Guinevere," he murmured finally, and Merlin experienced the strange sensation of both relief and alarm rushing him at the same moment. "Something is, I don't know, _wrong_ with her. She's not been the same since The Dark Tower. At first I wasn't worried - Heaven only knows what Morgana put her through - and, of course, she was mourning for Elyan..."

Here Arthur stopped, looking up from the fire and into Merlin's eyes for the first time since he had started talking. Merlin's heart constrict with pity at the look of helplessness in his friend's eyes. Arthur swallowed and clutched the arms of the chair in a white knuckle grip. "She won't talk to me, Merlin. She is not herself, but how can I help her move on from what happened if she won't _let me_? I'd, well, I'd rather hoped she might have confided in you. Your friendship goes back a long way. I thought maybe... maybe you knew something that I didn't."

Merlin was at a loss as to what he could say. This was a perfect opportunity to alert Arthur to the fact that Morgana had somehow taken over Gwen, that it was she who was behind the latest assassination attempts. But he could not shake the memory of Arthur's disdain at his warnings against Agravaine, the cold threat of banishment - the heartbreak on Arthur's face when he found out Merlin's warnings were well founded, that another person had betrayed his trust. But Arthur was gazing at him expectantly, as though he was waiting impatiently for Merlin to have just the nugget of information he needed to hear to allay his fears. Merlin took a deep breath, hoping that all that he had learnt in the last three years would help him to do this in a way that would not distance Arthur from him.

"She has not spoken to me, Arthur," he began gently, pretending not to notice the crestfallen expression on the other man's face. "But I do believe I have an... inkling, as to what could be wrong."

Arthur sat up in his chair and leaned forward eagerly. Merlin held up a placating hand.

"Arthur... you are not going to like what I'm going to say," he warned, hoping that he sounded firm as opposed to apprehensive. "But I want you to remember that Gwen is my oldest friend here in Camelot, and I love her as a sister. I would do anything for her." Arthur's confusion was plain on his face, but he nodded jerkily, obviously impatient to hear what came next.

"I don't know exactly what Morgana did to Gwen in the Dark Tower" he began carefully, noting how Arthur's death grip on the chair arms pulled the brocade tight. "But I have reason to believe she has enchanted her." Merlin felt the full force of his trepidation rear up as Arthur's eyes flamed. He hurriedly continued, not wanting to give Arthur the opportunity to start ranting about banishments before he could finish. "The last few attempts on your life... Gwen has been behind those. Except, it's not _Gwen_, I know it. Morgana must be controlling her, I just haven't figured out exactly _how_."

Arthur's face was white with fury, and he stared at Merlin for several long moments before he next spoke.

"You skirt very close to speaking treason, Merlin," he said softly, his sky blue eyes still fixed feverishly on those of his manservant. "Have you any proof? Anything to back up this claim?"

Merlin let out an unsteady breath, lacing his fingers together in his lap so as to prevent them from fidgeting in agitation. He launched into a description of what he had noticed of Gwen's behaviour since her return from the Tower, of finding the scrap of her cloak in the woods where the patrol had spotted Morgana. Lastly, he told him of his own poisoning.

Arthur was staring blankly at him, obviously not seeing his manservant, but possibly the events of that day playing out before him again. "So this boy, Daegal... he told you everything?"

Merlin nodded, sorrow settling heavily on his shoulders at the thought of the young boy who had taken the crossbow for a King he'd never met. Arthur's voice brought him back to the present once more. "You... you almost died then?"

Merlin looked up into the eyes of his king, cocking his head in question at the torn expression on the other's face. "Yes," he replied calmly. "I was lucky that Daegal had a change of heart."

Arthur blanched, turning his face away to stare once more into the dancing flames. "Why didn't you say, when I asked you about the girl you'd been visiting? Why did you go along with it?"

"Arthur, who would you have believed?" Merlin asked him gently. "If I had spoken out that night, and Gwen had said it was all lies, which one of us would you have thrown in the cells?"

Arthur visibly flinched, bowing his head as though to escape the truth of Merlin's words. "It's alright you know," he continued. "She's your wife. You're _supposed_ to value her word and her opinion above all others. I had to wait for you to notice the change in her yourself, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, suddenly looking at once infinitely older than he should, and yet so young and vulnerable. "I still... I can't bring myself to believe it, Merlin. I _can't_."

Merlin took note of the desperation in the other man's voice and leant forward, searching out his eyes with his own. He waited until Arthur was looking at him once more before he continued, quiet and non confrontational. "Then where is she at this moment, Arthur?"

Arthur paled even further, if possible. "She went to visit Lady Rosaline, she... she said not to expect her for a few hours." Merlin said nothing, and Arthur groaned, lowering his head to his fists. "She's gone to meet Morgana."

It was a statement, not a question, and Merlin said nothing as Arthur warred with himself.

"What do I do?" It was so quiet that Merlin almost missed it, but the sound of the ever confident Arthur Pendragon whispering brokenly into his hands made Merlin steel his own resolve.

"_We_ will confirm our suspicions," he said, reaching a pale hand out to grasp the king's forearm. "I have an idea where they may be meeting. Come, we must move quickly."

Arthur nodded, reaching his other hand out to clasp Merlin arm in return. They stayed locked for a few moments, Arthur hand tightening around Merlin's wrist to the point of discomfort before he abruptly let go and stood up, pulling off his nightwear as Merlin leapt to gather his clothes and chainmail.

As they reached the door, Arthur stopped, turning to grip Merlin by his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he began, obviously struggling to articulate how he felt. "Sorry that you had to suffer in silence."

Merlin graced him with a small smile, shaking his head slightly. _If only you knew, Arthur, how often I have suffered in silence for you_. "There is nothing to be sorry for," he replied. _For I would do so again in a heartbeat. _

As they made their way silently through the sprawling castle, Merlin raised an eyebrow questioningly at the sound of Arthur's strained chuckle. "It was Gwen telling us you had a _girl_ of all things that made me suspicious. I just _knew_ that couldn't be true."

Merlin twitched his lips in what he hoped passed as an agreeable smile, his thoughts flashing to Freya. An old wound, but one that still throbbed tenderly when touched. He hoped fervently that Arthur would pass off his silence as worry over Gwen - this was a subject he strongly wished to avoid.

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Arthur turned his head to glance inquisitively at his companions face. Merlin had a look of such hurt on his face that Arthur stopped walking. "I didn't mean to offend," he began, feeling a little guilty at offending the man who had just risked being charged with treason to show him the truth. Again.

"You didn't offend me," said Merlin without stopping, offering Arthur a small, hollow smile over his shoulder.

Arthur frowned, moving hurriedly to catch up with the long strides of the man who Arthur often referred to in the privacy of his own head as 'The Riddle'. "Then why do you look like I just told you I was making you assistant to George. For life."

Merlin sighed, his shoulders visibly tense through the thin fabric of his tunic and coat.

"You just... you reminded me of someone very important to me. Somebody I lost," he said reluctantly, never pausing in his swift navigation of the dark corridors. Inexplicable guilt tightened around Arthur's llungs.

"You lost? A girl you..."

"Loved? Yes," finished Merlin, opening the hidden sally port in the wall for Arthur to slip through. Taking in his master's dumbfounded expression, he elaborated. "It was many years ago, Arthur. My second year in Camelot, in fact. I did not know her for very long, but we... we connected. She died, soon after we met. I still miss her. I still wonder if I could have saved her, had I known then what I know now."

They walked on in near silence, Merlin carefully scouting out the trail and looking for signs of Gwen's passage, Arthur lost in his own thoughts.

His grief and concern for Gwen was momentarily pushed aside at this unexpected revelation of Merlin's. It was times like this that he realised how little he knew about his goofy, occasionally sage, manservant. He cast his mind back over the years they had spent together, and realised he had a dim memory of a heartbroken looking Merlin sat disconsolately polishing boots in his bedchambers, and his attempt to rouse him out of it by rough housing.

"Merlin," he whispered, not sure what he wanted to say, only knowing that he had to say _something_, because how often had Merlin suffered in silence, with Arthur oblivious to it?

"Shh," came the soft response, and then Merlin was gesturing him closer. "No time for such talk, Sire. I think it is them up ahead."

Arthur nodded, his thoughts once again back on the plight of his Queen. They crept forward together, flitting from shadow to shadow, until the unmistakable sound of Guinevere's honeyed tones reached his ears.

He tucked in behind the broad trunk of an oak and peered around it carefully, his stomach dropping heavily into his boots. There, handing over what looked to be an official document, was his beautiful, beautiful Guinevere. And there, smirking with ill disguised malice was his bitterest enemy, Morgana.

He was dimly aware of drawing his sword, Merlin's hushed words of warning reaching him just before he could go storming into the clearing. He felt cold, empty. He knew he sounded utterly broken when he asked Merlin _How? Why?_ but Merlin's calm, forceful tone brought him back to the present. If she had fallen prey to dark magic, then they must save her. They _must_. Eventually, he tore his eyes away from the nightmarish scene before him. Merlin was gazing at him with such understanding that Arthur felt as though his soul must have been laid bare across his face.

"If I lose her, I lose everything."

And he meant it. Merlin nodded, and in that moment, Arthur knew - whatever it took, they would find an answer, because surely nothing could stand in the way of such iron hard resolve as theirs.

He cast one last, lingering look towards the clearing before he allowed himself to be towed away by his insistent manservant.

_Soon Morgana_, he thought bitterly, _Soon I will finish this war between us for good. One way or another. _

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_**A/N 2 -**_ I hope you all liked that! As I said, just my version on how they got from the end of Episode 08 to 09. Anyone who would take a few minutes to leave a review - good or bad (though preferably constructive if the latter) - will be considered to be wonderful people. And that's worth so much, right?

Thanks for reading!

Dominatrice


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